


To Tell The Truth

by Ydnam



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-13
Updated: 2014-10-13
Packaged: 2018-02-20 23:42:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2447381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ydnam/pseuds/Ydnam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Telling the truth is hard. It becomes even harder the longer you wait. Especially if you're Rumplestiltskin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Tell The Truth

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't watched 4x03 yet. Mild spoilers through 4x02, including the deleted scene with Henry and Rumple.
> 
> Most of this was written over the summer hiatus but I never got around to posting it.

There were moments before the wedding when Rumplestiltskin nearly confessed to Belle the subterfuge surrounding the dagger. It was never the right moment, however, and he kept his silence. Even when she brought him the false dagger and pleaded with him to keep it safe he couldn’t make the words come. There hadn’t been much time and he had no desire to disrupt Belle’s plans. And if he were to be honest with himself, and he wasn’t always, he was frightened of the consequences. There would be time enough for truth after they were wed. 

He thought of telling her the truth on their wedding night. Thought of it before the wedding and dismissed the idea because it would ruin the evening, ruin her happiness, ruin everything. He had been the cause of so much of her pain and suffering and he could not bear to take this perfect moment from her. Nor was he willing to deny it to himself. He had had more than his share of suffering of late. He had been kept in a cage like some wild animal. He had lost his son and hadn’t even been able to attend his burial. He was clinging to whatever happiness he might find. So they were married in their private ceremony with only Belle’s father and the cricket there to witness. The wedding was perfect and he was glad, afterward, to have not spoken up beforehand. There would be time. They had a lifetime, now.

When they woke the morning after the wedding he wanted to confess. In the full light of day his misdeeds weighed heavily on him and a confession seemed imminent. Then she smiled at him, kissed him lightly, and just like that the moment had passed. They were newlyweds. There were other concerns and much more pleasant matters to attend to.

After everyone else knew it seemed cowardly to tell her. Would she think he’d waited until others knew of their marriage? Would she think he waited so that she would stay? Of course he wanted her to stay. He also wanted her to know. He was afraid the two were mutually exclusive.

When she brought him to the abandoned house for their honeymoon he was too startled, both by Belle’s apparent penchant for breaking and entering and by the unexpected appearance of an object he’d thought he would never see again, to confess. So instead he simply switched the daggers while her back was turned. Her back, of course, remained turned long enough for this to happen because of a tiny use of magic. Then, naturally, they had to dance. After that Belle led him to a bedroom and all thoughts of confession were forgotten in favor of other much more pleasant activities.

When the power went out it obviously wasn’t the right time for confessions. Instead they made their way to the shop where there were more distractions. A broken lock, a grandson with a problem he wished a magical solution for, inventory to be done to ensure nothing was missing, and then the shepherd prince and the pirate demanding assistance. Staying in someone else’s house seemed to have been prudent after all. There hadn’t been a single interruption not of their own making there. 

Soon enough a week had passed since the wedding and he still had not confessed. They had settled into a comfortable routine with each other. It grew harder with every passing day not to tell her. At the same time the longer he waited the more impossible it seemed to allow the words to come out. After all this time how could he say it now?

Two weeks after the wedding he tried. Truly, he did. He woke in the morning before she did. He left her breakfast warming in the oven and a note by the teakettle saying he would meet her at the library for lunch at noon. He thought it would be easier to tell her in a space that was hers. Not their home which they shared or the shop which was still mostly his domain. The library was Belle’s. The balance of power would shift there. That would help. When noon arrived he brought sandwiches and lemonade and a confession burning to escape from his mouth. They ate and afterwards he steeled himself to say the words only to have Belle quickly clear away the remnants of their meal with an apology but she’d promised storytime would start promptly at 12:30 and she would see him for dinner. After all that he still hadn’t managed to tell the truth and that night at dinner he found he’d once again lost all the momentum he’d gained. 

One month after the wedding not telling her was a constant pressure in his chest. There had been more aborted attempts at confessions. Something always got in the way. Items to be found in the shop. Dwarves. Celebrations he would gladly have skipped, or more likely not been invited to, had Belle not been involved. Emma wanting an answer. Robin Hood’s tiny son needing a book. Henry wanting to talk about his father. Henry, in particular, was able to distract him from his purpose frequently. The boy would arrive at the shop, or at the library, or simply walk up to him on the street. Sometimes he asked a question about his father. Sometimes at the shop he would pick up an item and ask about its history and that would turn into a conversation about Baelfire even if the object had nothing to do with his late son. The conversations weren’t easy. Speaking of his son was painful for Rumplestiltskin. Not speaking of him was worse. And after a conversation about his late child he would be in no condition to speak of other painful matters. 

Once it had been six weeks he resolved, once more, that the truth must be spoken. He would enlist help if need be. The cricket was surprised at his request for an appointment but offered a spot that same afternoon. Rumplestiltskin arrived 7 minutes early and paced outside the office door. When Dr. Hopper finally opened the door, 2 minutes past the appointed time, he’d worked himself into quite a state. He barely acknowledged the doctor. He simply brushed past him and sat heavily on the couch. He fidgeted there for a moment before standing again. He missed his cane at moments like these. Something to hold onto, something with which to occupy his hands, would have been most welcome. 

“I need to tell the truth,” he said finally. He rubbed his thumb on his wedding ring as he spoke. “I need to tell the truth and I haven’t the slightest idea how to do it. It’s been too long.”

“It’s never too late for the truth,” Dr. Hopper assured him.

“Spare me. It might well be too late. I should have done it weeks ago but I couldn’t. I still can’t.”

“What’s stopping you?”

“Everything and nothing.”

“Oh?”

“Yes.” He didn’t feel like elaborating. “Perhaps this was a mistake.”

“Mr. Gold. I can help you if you’ll let me.”

He wanted to run. He wanted to retreat to the safety of his shop or of his home. Instead he sat, stiffly, on the edge of the couch cushion, and began to explain his some of his situation. 

The doctor had helped, he decided as he exited the office. He at least knew where to start talking now when he spoke with Belle tonight. And it would be tonight. He couldn’t put it off again. He wouldn’t. 

His courage nearly failed him when he entered their home and saw her curled up in a chair with a book. Somehow, having told Dr. Hopper he would do this tonight helped him to gather said courage and take a deep a breath and begin.

“Belle...”


End file.
